


Transpirations

by MissJewelry373



Series: Probably Never Going To Be Finished [2]
Category: Split (2016)
Genre: F/M, Mostly Dennis/Casey and Beast/Casey, inspired by korn songs, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-01-15 07:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12316287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissJewelry373/pseuds/MissJewelry373
Summary: A collection of oneshots between Casey and The Horde. Most are inspired by KoRn songs, but some aren't. Main focus is CaseyxDennis. Technically always finished, technically never done.





	1. Worthy

**Author's Note:**

> This is the ONLY chapter that's not inspired by a song, but it's the first one I wrote for SPLIT so the song-inspired ideas came after.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

Casey's heart pounded in her chest as she scrambled for the gun, tears streaming down her face.

The monstrously strong hands of The Beast wrapped around her leg and yanked her backwards, pulling her just out of reach of the weapon. The skin of her hands and arms scraped against the rough stone floor as The Beast hauled her to him, and she cried out as his teeth sunk into the meat of her calf. In a moment of sheer terror, she stretched as far as she could towards the shotgun, the tips of her fingers just long enough to wrap around the handle and pull it to her.

Hurriedly, she cocked it, twisting onto her back and aiming at The Beast. There was a split-second of relief when she felt him remove his teeth from her leg, but it was quickly replaced with panic as he predicted her movements and knocked the weapon from her hands, sending it flying a few yards away from where they were.

She kicked and flailed as he crawled atop her, but try as she might, she couldn't get away. She screamed as The Beast tore at her last two shirts, ripping the cloth with ease as her stomach became exposed through the last layers of fabric. She waited for the horrifying moment when he bit into the flesh of her stomach, tore through the layers of skin and ate at her insides-

But it never came.

She waited, thinking certainly he was just toying with her, prolonging her suffering.

But the longer she waited, and the longer nothing happened, she grew less afraid and more confused.

Cautiously, she looked down, seeing that The Beast was, indeed, still there.

But he wasn't biting. Or clawing. Or scratching. He was just... _looking_. At first she was puzzled, but then she realized that he must have been looking at her scars. The Beast slowly pulled apart the tear he'd made in her last shirt, spreading the rip until the cloth separated completely, her bra being the only thing left on her upper body to cover her. Casey watched as he took in every scar that marred her body, observed every permanent reminder that told her she was worthless.

She froze when he moved to hover just above her, truly dwarfing her with his size, and reached out a finger to trace a particularly nasty mark along her left collarbone. She gasped at the contact, just waiting for the moment when he lost interest and went back to killing her, but again, that moment never came.

The Beast looked up at her, fingertips still brushing against her skin, amazement on his face.

"You are worthy," he whispered, a slow smile coming to his lips. "Rejoice! You are worthy!"

His thunderous words echoed through the hallway as his volume increased with his excitement, startling Casey to no end.

Tears stung at her eyes, and she sadly shook her head. "...No," she said finally, ashamed. "I'm not."

The Beast looked down at her, confusion clear on his face. "You _are_ ," he insisted. "The broken are the more evolved. You are _pure_."

A strong wave of fresh tears sprung in her eyes at that statement - she _wasn't_ pure, she was dirty - and she couldn't help it as they rolled down her cheeks in endless streams.

"Rejoice," he said softly, smiling tenderly as he leaned his face closer to hers. "Rejoice..."

She said nothing in reply, merely cried harder and shook her head.

No. She wasn't worthy. She knew she wasn't. How could she be? She'd been used, abused, tortured, and taken advantage of since she was old enough to speak proper sentences. How was that pure? How did that make her 'better' than everyone else? Than Marcia and Claire and that doctor woman? No. She was not worthy. She was tainted, broken, and scarred. And try as she might, she hardly saw anything admirable in that.

"You don't believe..." The Beast whispered, eyes widening in disbelief.

His eyes took on a sort of sympathy as he stared down at her, and Casey could hardly believe how mild and soft his demeanor was compared to how savage he'd been just moments ago. Her tears finally began to subside, and her eyes cleared to the point where she could finally see him properly. He looked...sad. Disappointed. Even sorry. Like she was a young lamb and he pitied her for her innocence, for her ignorance. It was the same look her relatives would give her every time her father was brought up.

The Beast's eyes drifted from hers and off into space, as though considering something. Deliberating with the others, maybe. Whatever was happening, a conclusion must have been reached, because moments later a look of clarity and certainty crossed his face, overtaking his features as he focused his gaze back on her.

"We must show you." He said finally, expression settling into one of determination.

His tone left no room for argument.

Without another word, The Beast wrapped his arms around her and scooped her up, and before she knew what was happening, he was carrying her away into the night.


	2. Sing Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis is enamored by Casey and The Beast agrees to help him capture her.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

* * *

 

_Little seed of purity_  
 _And you don't belong to me_  
 _Still, I'm blinded by its light_  
 _Don't try to make it right_   
   
Sing Sorrow - KoRn

 

* * *

 

He watched her when she wasn’t looking.

She didn’t realize it, but he did.

He wondered if she knew how vulnerable she was, how exposed. A crack in the wall, an open window, a fenceless backyard. She was constantly flirting with danger, constantly putting herself in bad places. Constantly making him _ache_...

He watched as the Cooke girl rolled over in her sleep, the book she’d been reading falling from her lap. Her room was gently illuminated, warm shadows cast every which way from the various things in her room. She’d left the light on, silly girl. Dennis stared from his place at the open window, a breeze blowing past him and rustling the curtains of her room.

_So oblivious to the danger she was in..._

He wasn’t worried or concerned about her wellbeing anymore, not in the face of everyday occurrences; weather, sickness, _people_...none of them posed any threat. Because now that the transformation was complete, now that the Beast was among them, they were all insignificant. Nothing else mattered. Because now, she needn’t fear storms, or viruses, or rapists. Because they weren’t the danger. He _was_ the danger. And as long as he continued to exist, she would have no reason to fear anything but him.

Dennis stiffened, feeling one of the Horde leave their chairs.

He felt the shift, the trying task of having to share consciousness with more than one at the same time. It hardly ever happened, because the amount of energy and concentration it took to keep two conscious simultaneously was overwhelming, and they didn’t want to exhaust Kevin. But this one was so powerful, so strong and demanding, that he hardly had the strength to deny it. And it was then that he realized it wasn’t one of the Horde, but the Beast. And the Beast didn’t have a chair.

He averted his eyes from Casey, but it was too late. The Beast had already seen the focus of his attentions.

_You want_ , he whispered.

_And so you shall have_.

_No_ , he denied. _It isn’t right. She’s pure, she’s_ -

_Worthy!_ The Beast bellowed. _A worthy one to have in our New World. She is the first of the Pure. After the cleansing is complete, she will be yours_.

Dennis stayed silent because he couldn’t deny it. He _did_ want her. But it was too soon. She didn’t realize. Didn’t see. She was special. And he of all in Kevin’s system knew just how special she was.

... _No_ , he said again, this time with more difficultly as he shook his head. _She doesn’t realize. She doesn’t know what she is. If we took her now_ -

_Then we must_ show _her_ , the Beast countered forcefully. _She must know her worth. And none but us can provide that for her_.

Dennis clenched his jaw and bowed his head, and the Beast grinned because he knew. He knew that, despite his protests, he’d had him before the conversation had even started. The Cooke girl was theirs.

Dennis looked back up to gaze through the window at Casey, brow sunken and eyes hard, and agreed to the Beast’s terms. “...Okay.”

With nothing more to do or say, he turned and stalked away into the night, slowly fleeing the false haven that was Casey’s new home. It still wasn’t right. He knew that. But he also knew that in the New World, she would need someone to help her accept herself and what she was. She didn’t know it yet, but she would need him. She would.

In time, she would be his.


	3. Overture or Obituary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey tries to go on with her life after the events of SPLIT, but finds that even though she should, she can’t bring herself to hate Kevin or his system.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to Molahsurey for their lovely comment. You’ve inspired me to get more serious about this thing again and less lazy. Hope you like this chapter as well :)

 

* * *

_I've tried to hate you, but feel regret_  
_I'm most uncertain I've lost the bet_  
_I'm waiting to watch it, I'm waiting to see_  
_Is this my overture or obituary?_  
  
Overture or Obituary - KoRn

* * *

 

She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Casey pinched her eyebrows together as she scribbled her answer for question fourteen. She was stressed, visibly so, but it wasn’t because of the test. Pencil scratched against paper, harsh blue eyes flashing across her vision as she moved on to the next question. Ever since her rescue, ever since... _that_ day, her mind had been overrun with that man. And ever since, she’d been unable to stop it.

Eraser smeared violently against bleach-white, wrinkling it in the process. It wasn’t like she _wanted_ him to consume her thoughts, to be all she thought about until she practically ate, slept, lived and breathed him. In fact, she could care less. So why wasn’t she?

Lead broke and splintered as the bright orange pencil was tossed angrily into the wall. She grunted in frustration and shoved away from her desk, propelling herself backwards in her wheeled chair. Why - after all this time - was she still unable to stop thinking about-

 _Don’t say it_ , her mind halted. _If you say it, then it’s true_.

She paused, thinking back forlornly, _If I don’t say it, it’s a lie_.

She sighed, knowing it was high time to just admit it to herself. Ever since the turn her life had taken, she could not stop thinking about the bald man who had abducted her. With his cold eyes, severe brow, and calculating demeanor, despite everything, she could not stop herself from thinking about him, wondering about him. And though he scared her most definitely, he also enthralled her.

 _You are worthy_ , he had said.

Worthy? What did that even mean?

She was in a foster house, a home away from home in some odd neck of the woods that really was more of a home than she’d ever had, at least so far. She was miles from her old life, from the zoo, and months away from any troubles to plague her. She should be happy. So why did she keep thinking back to the man responsible for what should have been the most traumatic event of her life? 

Unable to come up with an answer, Casey dug her heels into the wooden floors of her room and scooted herself back over to her desk, picking up another pencil and straightening out her paper to continue finishing her test.

She was on question eighteen when movement caught her eye, and she looked over to her window to find nothing but darkness and a slight breeze rustling her curtains. She waited, muscles tense and breathing short, expecting, but nothing came.

Disappointed, she turned back to her schoolwork, unaware of the dark figure stalking off into the night.


	4. Open Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Horde learn of Casey’s abusive uncle and decide to take action when the law won’t.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is the longest so far. Hope everyone likes it and doesn’t think it’s too OOC (I feel like I tend to get out of character the longer I write, idk).

* * *

 

 _Open up, now, let it all go_  
_I'm quite certain, say it ain't so_  
_You're corrupted by_  
_Some sick fuck, oh, no_  
   
Open Up - KoRn

* * *

 

They were watching her again.

All four of them. The Horde. And they were angry.

They watched from their hiding place as Casey locked herself in her room and ran to her bed after her uncle had hit her. Again. This was actually a good day compared to most; when the curtains were drawn, that was when they knew something much worse was happening. All but Hedwig.

 _What is he doing to her?_ He had asked innocently the first time they saw her uncle order her to draw the curtains.

Dennis stared hard at the now covered window, the rest of the Horde knowing full well what was happening.

 _Something bad_ , he had said.

And ever since, they had watched. Watched Casey come back from school, watched her breath a sigh of relief if her uncle wasn’t there at the time she got home, watched the fear in her body language when he was. The authorities had been no help, they never were. Even after she had confessed her uncle’s sins to the police after her rescue from the zoo, they hadn’t listened. Hadn’t believed. And it was their lack of faith that would be their eventual downfall. Because tonight, her uncle was theirs for the cleansing.

* * *

 

They waited until nightfall.

Casey had cried herself to sleep, woken up to do her homework, then slept some more. Their heartstrings tugged; they ached for Casey. She was different, special. The first of the Pure. She didn’t realize it, of course, but that was exactly why they had to cleanse her uncle, rid her of distractions. They would show her why. She had to know. There was no other alternative.

“He’s sleeping in the den the next room over,” Dennis said from their hiding place in the bushes. “He’s vulnerable.”

“Be careful,” Patricia warned. “The last thing we need is to make a mess that’ll traumatize the poor girl.”

Hedwig scoffed. “Pfft. Please. After what she’s been through with us? This’ll be a walk in the park.”

“ _Well_ ,” Patricia quipped, annoyance breaking through her tone. “Now That we’re all in agreeance...”

Dennis glared towards the house, hatred bubbling inside him at the sight of the drunken man watching tv on the recliner within. He could feel the Beast growing impatient with their lack of action.

“Let’s go prune the Cooke family tree.”

* * *

 

John sat slouched in his chair in the living room, a bottle in his hand and a six-pack on the floor at his side.

He was looking at the tv, but his eyes were so blurry from the alcohol that he couldn’t really focus on it; all he saw was a blue haze. He raised his hand to take another swig of his beer, missing his lips and instead spilling it all over himself.

“Goddammit...”

He put the recliner down and sat up, looking dazedly down at himself and the rather smelly wet spot he’d made on his plaid shirt. He reached over to the table on his left in search of a napkin or towel, but he would never find one; the window behind the television suddenly burst, glass flying into a million pieces as a figure crashed like thunder into the room. John was so drunk, the sound was muffled in his ears, and he barely had time to register what had happened before a tall, shirtless bald man rose to his full height only feet away from him, glaring down at him with all the power of God Himself.

John tried to get away, clumsily leaping out of his chair to go for the shotgun he kept hidden beneath the couch, and by some miracle, he made it. He grabbed the gun and swung it around to fire at the intruder, but his hopes were dashed when the man smacked the weapon from his hands and sent it flying across the room. He watched as it clattered against the wall, now useless to him so far away, and his attention was quickly brought back to the man as he picked him up by his throat, grip crushing as he lifted him higher and higher off the ground.

The man glared at him, nostrils flaring like an angry ox as his chest rose and fell dramatically, and John swore for a moment that he wasn’t looking at a man, but an animal. A beast.

John screamed as he was thrown across the room, his head slamming into the corner of the recliner and busting some of the bottles in his six-pack. Something warm and slick began running down his forehead, but in his drunken state he couldn’t figure out what it was. His head swam from the alcohol and adrenaline, and the two mixed together made him sick to his stomach. The man stalked toward him and John lurched away, scrambling to get to his feet and put some distance between them, but it was fruitless; barbaric hands wrapped once more around his throat, and the only thing he could see was the blurred image of a complete stranger, and the vivid hatred behind their eyes as they slowly and painfully choked him to death.

A high-pitched scream sounded to John’s right, and both he and his attacker looked over to see Casey standing in the doorway.

“Casey...” he choked, his voice nearly inaudible from the pressure on his trachea. “Casey, help me...”

Casey ran to the other side of the room, and John knew that his time was up. There was no one coming to help him, and no one to-

- _Snap_.

* * *

 

The Beast let Casey’s uncle fall limp to the floor, his neck broken.

He glared down at the pitiful excuse of a human being below him, wanting to resuscitate him just so he could kill him again. He shouldn’t have been so easy on him.

“Coward...” he said, deep voice rumbling. “Not even worthy enough to eat.”

The Beast turned, not wanting to look at the body at his feet anymore, and paused when he saw Casey, trembling on the far side of the room...with a shotgun in her hands. Tears filled her eyes, and the uncertainty in them took him back to the last time they’d met. _What a familiar sight_ , Patricia commented. She almost sounded proud.

“Do not be afraid,” he told her, stepping closer. “We are not here to hurt you.”

Casey sniffled, cocking the shotgun in warning; she didn’t know what was happening, but she knew she didn’t want him coming any closer. The Beast looked at her with what she almost thought was sympathy, but that look quickly changed as one of the others took hold of Kevin’s body.

“Now, Casey. Calm down.” It was Patricia. “We’re not here to fight. Only to protect you. We know what kind of person your uncle was. And it needed to stop.” She paused to smile knowingly. “And let’s be honest, the authorities weren’t much help where _that_ matter was concerned.”

“Stop it!” Casey yelled, shoving her gun towards her. “Just shut up! You’ve been following me this whole time?!”

Patricia looked at her warningly, not very fond of being told to ‘shut up’. “I wouldn’t say _following_ , dear, so much as _watching_. You are the first of the Pure. We had to make sure you were protected.”

She held out an arm as though to calm her down or soothe her, but it hardly had any effect.

“Wha... _we?_ ” Casey sputtered miserably. Her eyes were overrun with tears now, and they spilled over her lashes and past her cheeks in thin streams.

“Why, the Horde, of course.” She smiled, teeth showing. “Darling, you are very special. You need to be taken care of. Come with us, we’ll show you.”

She reached for the younger girl’s hand, but she leapt back, pointing the gun more severely at her. “ _No_. No, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Squinting malevolently at the Cooke girl, Patricia’s condescending gaze soon turned to that of hard determination, and she knew she was speaking with Dennis.

“Casey, please. You’re very important to us. We don’t want you to get hurt. We just want you to realize your full potential. Please, come with us.”

He held out his hand, not to take, but to offer.

Casey stared at his open palm, trying to think. Maybe she was crazy, but he... _they_ , seemed sincere. And she certainly wouldn’t be grieving the death of her uncle any time soon. But what if it was a trick? Didn’t every girl want to be told they were special and get whisked away to go on some crazy adventure? Didn’t every terrible person use those lines?

“Casey.” Her head shot up, eyes locking with Dennis’. The gentleness in them shocked her. “Please.”

His head jerked a bit, and the next thing she knew, she was inches away from a giddy child.

“Yeah, come on, Casey!” Hedwig said excitedly, invading her personal space as he came as close as he wanted. She lowered her gun. “It’ll be fun! You can tell us bedtime stories and hang out with us all the time! Oooh, it’ll be so awesome, pleeease, please please please please, won’tcha come?”

Casey blinked rapidly, at a loss for words. “U- uhh...”

The light in Hedwig’s eyes slowly faded away, and they were soon replaced with something much more...sinister. Casey shrank back against the wall as Kevin seemed to grow, engulfing her every sense, taking up her space until she felt like she was suffocating. This...she was in the presence of something much more. She knew.

“Casey Cooke,” the Beast addressed her. Casey refused to look at him for fear of what she’d find. “You are Pure. You are _worthy_.”

She stared holes into the corner, fear striking her from the last time they’d encountered one another. This was it. He was going to take her. He was going to take her away and there was nothing she could do about it. At least with Dennis and the others there had been the illusion of a choice. But now...now that she wasn’t so willing, they had brought out _it_ to force her into submission. Nothing had changed. She had merely traded one monster for many others.

“But you are not ready.”

Casey gasped at this, startled. She looked over to the Beast, brow wrinkled in confusion. Wait...was he letting her go?

“You do not realize the importance of what you are,” He continued. “And until then, we will wait...for your acceptance.”

He calmly walked over to the window he had burst through, stopping to turn and look back at her before he left. He looked...sad. Worn down. Almost pained. The others must have been protesting.

“When you can finally come to terms with what you are, with your purity, we will meet again.”

He moved to leave, but Casey burst forward, opening her mouth before she could think. “Wait! How will I know? How will I find you again?”

“We will be watching. We will know. And we will find you.”

She took another distressed step forward, but he was already leaping back out through the window and running into the night. She rushed to where he had been, the broken glass at her feet the least of her worries as she watched him disappear into the darkness, a plethora of feelings running through her. A sudden chill ran up her spine as a breeze blew in, and it was then that she finally realized how cold it was outside.

Shivering, she moved away from the window and stood by the doorway instead, trying to process everything that had happened.

_We will find you._

She was broken from her thoughts as the sound of sirens faded into her hearing range. One of the neighbors must have called the cops. She looked down at the lifeless body of her uncle, mixed emotions welling up inside her. But the most prominent ones? Satisfaction. Pride. Happiness. She didn’t care what had happened in the past, or how the media painted it. The Horde had been her savior tonight.

And someday...someday, she would have the opportunity to thank them.


	5. Trash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis deals with his cravings for Casey.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

* * *

_How did it start? Well I don't know, I just_  
_Feel the craving_  
_I see the flesh and it smells fresh and it's just_  
_There for the taking_  
   
Trash - KoRn~

* * *

Teeth clenched behind pursed lips as a rough hand gripped the doorknob.

He was struggling. Again.

 _She_ was behind that door.

Dennis took a breath, closing his eyes and wrinkling his brow in indecision. He shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t. He had no reason to go in there and he’d promised he wouldn’t bother her again. He’d promised...

He began to talk himself out of his initial plans and loosened his grip on the doorknob, only to have images of _her_ flood his mind. Her dark chestnut hair. Her wide, expressive eyes. Soft, pouty lips. He nearly groaned as he thought of her neck, long and smooth and slender. His grip on the door was now crushing, his knuckles turning white, though he wasn’t aware.

He didn’t know how it had come to this, didn’t know why he found himself so entranced by the Cooke girl. She wasn’t even supposed to be there, she was merely an accident that had to be taken along when things went awry. He knew nothing about her; the other two were the ones he’d been watching for weeks, and as far as he knew, Casey had no ties to them. She should have been the least of his worries, the last thing on his mind. And yet...

 _And yet it’s proving to be just the opposite_.

The thought bubbled up so suddenly that at first he thought it wasn’t even his, that maybe it was one of Patricia’s or Barry’s that had broken past the barrier that was always present whenever one of them had taken the light. But it was his, sure enough. Guilt began to creep into him; if Patricia or any of the others knew what he was doing, what he was _trying not to do_ , they would be disappointed in him. None of the others struggled with what he did, none of them understood the constant strain he felt when in the presence of a woman’s beauty.

But Casey wasn’t overly beautiful. She didn’t exude the blatant sexuality that had been present in the other two, didn’t radiate false confidence or awareness of her looks. So why did he desire her? Why did he want her so badly? Why did he ache to see her? Touch her? Talk with her?

 _Makes no sense_ , he thought. _No sense at all_...

Sound on the other side of the door caught his attention, and he knew she was moving, pacing about the room. He imagined her clothing rustling, her hair flowing, the expression on her face. God, he could practically hear her _breathing_...

In that moment, his resolve broke. Twisting the doorknob and unlocking the latch, Dennis threw open the door and stepped inside-

Chestnut hair swirled around as a scared, pale face turned to greet him, and he abruptly stopped at the sight of her.

She was lovely.

Lovely as ever.

Lovelier than he remembered, and it had only been a handful of hours.

A tense, tangible silence weighed down over them, and she waited intently for him to do something, say something. Even he wasn’t sure what he was going to do, what he had expected himself to do - touch her? Kiss her? Speak with her? - and now it had put him in a bind.

Finally, he cleared his throat, brow sunken and jaw terse as was per usual. The sound made Casey flinch, and he tried not to pay attention to the pull of the tendons at her delicate neck.

“...Hand me your sheets. They need washed.”

His voice was strained and slightly gravelly, but if she noticed, she didn’t let on. After a moment’s hesitation, Casey obeyed his order and carefully removed the bedsheets to the two beds, gathering them up and holding them out for him to take. Dennis accepted them, the fingers of his right hand jerking when he accidentally ran them over her left wrist, and he knew he had to leave.

He stepped back, averting his gaze as he spoke to her. “Try to keep this room clean. I don’t... _deal_ with messes very well.”

With that, he retreated back to the safety of the other room, not daring to see her reaction or let her ask any questions. He shut and latched the door and took the bundle of sheets to the washroom to get them clean. He didn’t understand how some people could go days or even weeks without washing the blankets on which they slept. It was unsanitary, disgusting. It was...

His train of thought was lost as a strong smell wafted into his nose, a smell of pine needles and something else, something he couldn’t quite place, and he knew almost immediately that it was her. The realization hit him like a train, and he moved to cover his nose. He dropped the offending sheets into the washer as though they were ablaze, and quickly turned in search of the blue container on the shelf.

He grabbed it and unscrewed the cap, looking down at the pile of cloth in the washer while struggling to keep thoughts of Casey at bay.

He poured the detergent over it, trying to drown out the smell.


	6. Falling Away From Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis learns of Casey’s self-harm.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was kinda ‘eh’. I didn’t really know where I was going with it towards the end or how I was going to finish it, but I guess it’s adequate enough. The next chapter will be a continuation of either Worthy or Open Up, not sure which yet. Thanks a ton to everyone who’s reading and likes these, means a lot :)

* * *

 

 _Hey, I’m feeling tired_  
_My time is gone today_  
_You flirt with suicide,_  
_Sometimes, that’s okay_  
   
Falling Away From Me - KoRn

* * *

 

He could hear her shuffling around on the other side of the door. She wasn’t aware of it, but he could hear everything that went on in that room. He knew. He always knew. And this time was no different.

Dennis listened intently to the light scuffling coming from the room beyond as he swept the floors, knowing that Casey was pacing yet again. She must have been stressed, or maybe she was thinking. A quirk, perhaps. He didn’t know.

 _Probably trying to think of a way out,_ he thought. _She won’t find one_.

He continued sweeping, angling the dirt into the nearby dustpan he had set aside when he’d started. The scuffling kept going at its initial pace, and he could almost see her walking around step for step behind the door that separated them, could practically predict her movements. He wondered if she had even the slightest idea.

 _Definitely not_ , he decided. _She’s just a girl, and girls in this day and age don’t think past their cellphones_.

He continued sweeping, even long after he ceased to see any dirt, and lifted up the full dustpan to take it into the kitchen and empty it into the trash. And yet he couldn’t deny, this girl was different. She wasn’t noisy, or tearful, or scared out of her mind like the other two were. She was reserved, quiet. Never panicking, always thinking. And in a way, that made her more dangerous than the dark haired girl or the blonde, who had already tried their escape attempts, and it made him wonder if her calm was part of her demeanor, or merely a facade while she worked things out in her head and got together a plan for means of escape.

Dennis pulled out his yellow handkerchief and briefly used it to wipe down the counter top of the kitchen area before stuffing it back in his pocket. He turned to head back into the main room, walking over to the clothing rack he and the others shared. He began to sort through them, making sure each of them had their clothes where they were supposed to be and that nothing needed washed, when a sudden silence pierced his ears.

He paused and listened, a quiet tone droning through his eardrums as he realized it was completely soundless around him.

He turned to the door of Casey’s room - she had stopped pacing.

His brows drew even more tightly together as a sudden panic hit him; she had found a way out. 

His footsteps were loud and heavy as he stalked over to the door and quickly unlocked it, wrenching it open and stepping inside.

He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to find - an empty room, an open panel, a struggling girl in the panicked throes of escape, maybe - but it certainly wasn’t what was revealed to him as he opened the door.

Casey stood between the two beds, her entire body jerking when he came into the room. A piece of wooden shrapnel was in her hands, and he could see blood dripping from her fingers as she held it tightly. Fixing his gaze back on the terrified girl in front of him, Dennis wasted no time; he crossed the distance between them and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her down onto one of the beds as she struggled to break free. He forced her hands back as she pushed at his face in a frantic effort to keep him away, but she soon directed her attention to his own hands as he reached for the hem of her shirt.

She cried out and scrambled to keep his hands away from her clothes, but her strength was no match for his, and he ultimately pulled her remaining layers up past her stomach. She gasped and immediately ceased all struggles, eyes going wide as tears streamed down her face. Her skin contracted in response to the cold air, but it was the numerous marks that caught his attention; various scars marred her body, too many to count, and he could tell that some were nearly as old as she was.

Blood oozed near her rib cage, from the fresh mark she’d just made on herself, and his brow sunk in confusion and surprise. She...she wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t unbroken, or untainted. Ignorant. She had been through...something significant. And judging from the number of scars she had, she been through it many, many times.

Dennis shoved her shirt up even further, revealing even more scars from knives, fingernails, and what appeared to be cigarette burns. He unbuttoned the top half of her over-shirt and pushed it past her shoulders, seeing even more marks, and the reason for her many layers of clothing suddenly made much more sense.

His face twisted and contorted, unable to deal with what was right in front of him. Wrong, this was wrong. She wasn’t like the others. She was pure, she was-

He grabbed her face and forced her to look at him, his own expression mirroring hers in pain.

“How could you do this to yourself?” He asked, frustrated tears coming to his eyes. “How could you...How could-“

He stopped himself, drawing back to take a deep breath and run a hand over his head. He took a moment to calm himself, then looked back down at her.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said finally.

He bent forward and cupped her face in his hands, ignoring her rigid stillness as he rested his forehead against hers and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, breath ghosting hers.

He felt her lashes against his closed eyelids as she blinked, hiccuping as she calmed down from her crying. He shouldn’t have taken her. He should have been more careful. He wasn’t supposed to hurt the Pure. Patricia would be livid when she found out. The others, it was always supposed to be the others. They were the Impure, the problem that needed extinguished. But not this girl in front of him. Not Casey. He had made a grave mistake.

He drew back and raised himself into a sitting position beside her on the bed, looking straight ahead into nothingness. “...Tell me where you live. When you go to sleep I’ll make sure you wake up in-“

“No!”

The sound of her voice, shrill and high-pitched with panic, startled him. He looked at her, now sitting in an upright position next to him, shock written on his face. Maybe she was in shock herself, unable to fully grip what he was offering her; a chance to go back to her old life as she knew it. He tried again.

“You...you’re part of the Pure. The special ones, the _strong_ ones. Like us. You’ve known struggle, you’ve known hurt. You know what it is to survive. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to be sacrificed to the Beast.”

She stayed silent, most likely thinking of what her answer would be. He patiently waited, hoping she would understand; he didn’t want to force her to leave if she didn’t want to, but he wasn’t sure what he would do with her if that were the case.

Finally, she spoke. “Take me somewhere,” she said, her voice slightly broken from crying. “...But not home.”

He nodded, and briefly left to grab a spare rag and prepare it with chloroform. When he returned, he sat back down beside her and gently pressed the rag against the bottom half of her face, holding it there long enough to cause her to lose consciousness. She fell back onto the bed, long hair splaying about her neck and shoulders, and he couldn’t help admiring her subtle beauty. Eventually, he turned away and rested his head in his hands.

For the first time in Dennis’ life, he was unsure what to do.


	7. Swallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey learns the hard way what The Beast and Horde see in her (sequel to Worthy).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.
> 
> Dedicated to Anongirl and AkaUchiha, who wanted a Part II to ‘Worthy’ :)

* * *

 

 _Always I'm locked in my head_  
 _Know pain, you don't know what I have had_  
 _By now, I'm so for sure_  
 _Right now, I am yours_  
   
Swallow - KoRn~

* * *

 

Cold, mold-ridden metal pressed against her skin as she sat huddled against the drain pipe, the constant dripping of the town’s water supply echoing around her.

She was in a sewer somewhere underneath Philadelphia, but beyond that she hadn’t a clue where she was. Kevin - The Beast - had taken her away after declaring her ‘worthy’, whatever that meant. And at this point, cold and shivering in a ripped shirt and nothing but a bra to provide modesty to her upper half, she could only hope that, for her, it was a good thing.

Casey blinked, trying in vain to get a good view of her surroundings; nothing but blackness enveloped her, and the only comfort she had was the knowledge that she was on solid ground and not floating amongst the filth somewhere. She’d really hate to get her wound infected. She angled her head down to her calf even though she couldn’t see it, and wondered how bad it was. She wanted to touch it and see if it was still bleeding, but thought better of it; after all, she worried enough about it as it was, and she wasn’t about to go sticking her dirt-ridden fingers into it.

A loud clang reverberated from somewhere within the sewer, and she knew - he was back.

A dim light flooded her space and she was elated that she could see, if only a little. A large, black figure jumped down from the ceiling, landing in a menacing heap a few yards away. She knew sewer grates weighed a ton, and were very hard to lift, and she wondered how strong he must be if he could toss it aside like it was nothing.

The Beast rose and came toward her, and Casey tried her best not to panic. He hadn’t hurt her up to this point, and there was no use besides; she had no idea where she was, and he could easily catch her if she tried to run.

“No...no!”

She squinted, surprised to hear a foreign voice echoing through the sewer. It was male, and she soon realized they were not alone; the Beast had brought someone with him.

“No, please! No!”

The Beast tossed the man to the ground as though he were a sack of potatoes, falling in a heap at Casey’s feet. She coiled her legs instinctively, and the man - a complete stranger to her - looked up and locked gazes with her. The fear in his eyes was almost tangible, and she could see he was scared out of his mind.

“What- What is this?” He panicked, voice shaking. “Who are you people? ...What do you want?!”

She saw the Beast step closer behind him, looking down on him like a merciless god.

“He is unworthy,” he explained, deep, guttural voice so unlike the man’s before her. “He is not like you. Like us.”

Casey looked from him to the man, unsure of what difference she was supposed to see. Though to be fair, she was too scared of what was going to happen to think too hard about it.

“He is _weak_ ,” the Beast continued, a sudden malice in his voice as he focused his attention on the man, who, fearing for his life, turned around and scrambled backwards. “He is _useless_. He does not belong in this world. He has not seen what we have seen. Has not endured what we have endured. He does not know what it means to be strong. To truly _live_ as we _live_.”

The man’s back hit the drainpipe, and he sat quivering beside her when it finally sank in that he had nowhere else to go. Casey took labored breaths, afraid of what she was almost certain was going to happen.

The Beast came to stand a mere foot away, smiling down at him with menace. “Even now...he cowers because he does not know. He does not know what it means to be broken, or scarred. Does not know true struggle. No... _this_ is one who has never known tribulation.”

The man cried, begging for his life, but his pleas were left unheard as the Beast bent down, grabbed hold of his neck, and twisted. Casey jolted, the sickening sound making her want to puke, and tears filled her eyes at what she had just witnessed. Her fault. This was her fault. If she hadn’t been here this never would’ve-

Her thoughts halted when the Beast turned his attentions to her, and she instinctively shrank away as he moved to squat in front of her, leaving no room for escape. If he was going to kill her, there was nothing she could do.

“See?” The Beast whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “Worthy.”

She began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m sorry I took so ridiculously long to update. I had this chapter about halfway written months ago (or at least it feels like months ago) but I wasn’t quite sure just *how* to illustrate that Casey was worthy and what that really meant and all that, yadda-yadda-yadda. Anyway, I hope I did good.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, you guys are amazing! :)


	8. Hushabye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis asks Casey to come with him and the others, but she declines. He leaves, heading out of town, disappointed.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betcha thought I’d never update again, huh? ;P I saw the new trailer for Glass and it reinspired me to get a new oneshot out. Hopefully I haven’t lost my touch.

_You say you'd love to, but you've lots left to do_

_Almost decided to stay 'cause of you_

_And I hate to tell you to exchange your dreams_

_For a one-way ticket, no return_

 

Hushabye - KoRn~

* * *

 She knew he was there.

 She could feel him, could practically sense the apprehension and anxiety rolling off of him in waves.

Casey Cooke turned, coming face to face with the infamous Kevin Wendell Crumb. He was half hidden behind the curtain of one of her bedroom windows, though the transparency of the cloth did little to shield him from her sight. He stared at her with pursed lips and a guarded expression, the dim yellow light from her bedside table lamp casting a soft glow onto his face. She stared back, gently analyzing him.

 No. Not Kevin, she realized. The posture was too rigid and the brow line sunk far too low. Dennis. This was Dennis.

 Involuntarily, she looked to her door, wondering if her new foster parents had heard or become aware of their intruder, but the longer she stared, the quieter it seemed to get. She looked back to Dennis, whose face seemed twisted with all sorts of different emotions; happiness, shame, regret, apprehension, puzzlement. And for what? What reason could he possibly have to feel any of those things? Least of all in her presence?

Rather than read into it, Casey put on a brave face. She tried her best not to jump or show any signs of fear - after all, she had bested the Horde once - but found it extremely difficult to do given the fact that she had only escaped her predicament less than a week ago.

Dennis stepped closer, causing her to automatically step back. He looked down for a moment, a look passing over his face that told her he didn’t want to scare her, but she wasn’t about to listen to what could only be chalked up to a mere hunch.

“We’re leaving,” he said, looking at her with that ever-intense expression she had become all too familiar with. “Tonight.”

It sounded more like a rehearsed announcement than anything else, and she got the feeling that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say.

Seconds passed, and when she didn’t respond he spoke again. “I...we want you to come with us.”

But it didn’t sound all that convincing to Casey’s ears. She could tell by the strain in his voice and hesitation with which he’d said the words that ‘ _we_ ’ didn’t necessarily mean everyone welcomed her presence. And she could think of at least one that would surely roar against the notion of having her tag along anywhere they went.

 _Patricia_ , she thought.

It was clear enough to her that _we_ really meant _I_ , and she wondered why on earth Dennis of all people would want her anywhere near his side; he had to have known she would only be a liability. But still she was shocked. The last thing she expected from another encounter with her captors was an invitation to join them. And the sincerity, the _longing_ with which he’d said the words told her he genuinely wanted her to come along, that he hoped with every fiber of his being that she would say yes. And that scared her more than anything.

“I...what?” she gasped out, not believing her ears.

“Come with us,” he said again, once more stepping closer. When she didn’t move, he took that as an invitation to take an extra two, three steps. “You’re...Worthy. _Pure_. The first of the Chosen. The Beast, he can _show_ you how special you truly are if you just come with us.” The words came out in a harsh rush, as though he were desperate to make her understand, to persuade her to think that this was the best thing for her, and she stared at him warily as he extended a hand and gently added, “Please.” 

Casey stared at the hand offered to her, thought about the invitation presented to her and only her. She’d be lying if she said the notion of it wasn’t tempting, didn’t entice or excite her. But this was Dennis who was asking her, and Dennis alone. And though she knew Hedwig and maybe a few of the others wouldn’t mind, she had no doubt that the road he was offering to take her down would lead to nowhere good.  

She reached up, gently brushed her fingers over his, and closed his fist, pushing it down to rest back against his side.

The light of hope that sparked behind his eyes slowly faded out, and she wasn’t sure why it crushed her. 

“I...I can’t.”

He blinked rapidly, recoiled as though struck. “What...what do you mean you can’t? There’s _nothing_ for you here, you’re holding yourself back!”

“I still have things I want to do!” She argued, biting her lip when her voice came out a bit too loudly. “I need to finish...school, and...maybe go to college, and...and get a job! I can’t just pack up and leave. It wouldn’t be right!”

“What’s not right is you staying her amongst all these... _filth_ you call people.”

“Do you really believe that?” She asked.

He looked at her with uncertainty, and his face twisted in pain. As if thinking. Deliberating with the others. 

Casey reached out to him. “Dennis...”

Her fingers had just brushed the sleeve of his shoulder before he yanked away, hastily reigning back the hurt in his eyes at her refusal. “We’re leaving now. You won’t see us again.”

He moved towards the window and Casey chased after him. “Dennis, wait-“ but it was already too late.

He leapt out from her bedroom and disappeared into the night. 

* * *

_It’s for the best._

Patricia’s words did little in the ways of comfort as Dennis continued walking, making his way past the countless houses that made up Casey’s foster parents’ suburban neighborhood.

 _Yeah, but he really liked herrrr,_ Hedwig whined.

 _Hush, Hedwig,_ Patricia admonished. She turned her attention back to Dennis. _Really, Dennis, did you truly believe she would come? After everything we put her through? After everything_ you _did?_

He thought about that. Did he believe? No. Had he hoped? With everything he had. Patricia had once asked him to explain his feelings towards Casey, and Dennis found that he couldn’t. Even he didn’t understand why he felt the need to see her one last time, why she refused to leave his head and why he couldn’t stop thinking about her. That slip of a girl who had somehow managed to best him and the Horde. Hell, even the Beast. A feat which, according to Patricia, was not possible.

_Really, I don’t understand your attraction to the girl. Not one bit. I would think after the last one you would have learned your lesson._

He winced at the memory she was referring to, hurt swelling in his chest. Images of the last girl he had been enamored with flooded his mind, and he remembered; her long blonde hair, her smile, her fear, her screams. She’d promised she’d never bring it up again...

Blinking the thoughts away, Dennis shoved Patricia and Hedwig to the back of the pitch black room, refusing to give them entry to the front; he had heard enough of them for one night, and saw no point in letting them close enough to the light to speak with him. Remind him further of his failures and shortcomings.

Taking a sudden turn, he hopped a fence and began making his way towards the next city, where he and the Horde planned to put Kevin on the nearest plane. Though the Beast had successfully been unleashed, and their plan to rid the world of the Unworthy was still in effect, Kevin came first. He was still tired after the birth of the Beast and the events of the past week, and the safest place for him to rest and recover would be the farthest they could get from Philadelphia.

Hurt quickly melted into anger and determination, and Dennis pushed all thoughts of Casey from his mind.

A harsh lesson indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else seen the new trailer for Glass? Like woah. I am so excited that Casey will make a reappearance in the final film to M. Night Shyamalan’s Unbreakable trilogy, and I am UBER curious as to why she appears to be visiting Kevin in the institute he’s at. I knew there was something there ;P lol but I hope you liked this update. And if not, I’ll try and do better for the next one.


	9. Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey’s thoughts throughout the film (and after) told in three five-sentence segments.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betcha weren’t counting on another update so soon, huh? Well ME neither! ;P I swear, this whole ‘inspiration’ thing comes and goes more often than Kevin’s personalities...okay tasteless joking aside: here you go.

_I want to save you_

_I want to blame you_

_Baby - KoRn~_

* * *

When she wakes the first time, she’s scared out of her mind.

She’s in a room she doesn’t recognize, with stone walls and a single wooden door, and she doesn’t know how or why she got there. 

She’s in the middle of trying to piece things together on her own when a man comes in; he introduces himself as Dennis.

He’s clean and he’s tidy and he makes it _very clear_ that she won’t be able to escape so don’t even try.

The solitary strength he exudes scares the living shit out of her.

* * *

When she wakes the second time, Hedwig is hovering over her.

Not touching, not messing. Just watching.

He speaks to her so childishly, and it’s hard for her not to picture Dennis as his features are much more suiting of a severe man like him; certainly no one with a nose, eyes, and mouth like his could belong to such an innocent child.

She gets her first kiss then, her first _real_ one anyway, and she thinks it’s strange and awkward and the most embarrassing thing she’s ever done.

It’s everything a first kiss should be.

* * *

When she wakes for the third time, she is in an abandoned building somewhere in Philadelphia.

Kevin- no, _the Beast_ , she corrects herself - had taken her with him (it?) when he left the underground tomb she’d been trapped in for the past two days.

The man appears in a doorway to her left (could she even _call_ him a man anymore?) and she somehow knows it’s Dennis; he slowly walks over to where she’s sitting on an old, lumpy mattress on a rusted bed frame and takes a seat beside her.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and his fingers slide behind her neck to pull her closer. “I’m so sorry.”

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against hers, and she cries.


	10. Basic Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey prepares herself to be taken by the Beast. Sequel to Open Up.
> 
> I do not own SPLIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was really hard to figure out where I was gonna go with this one, but I’m fairly satisfied with it. 
> 
> Anyway, I dedicate this chapter to Anongirl. You’re awesome ;)
> 
> Hope you like.

* * *

 

_I don't feel hunger, I don't need air_

_There's blood in my veins 'cause I know you are there_

_I don't need shelter, nothing at all_

_The reason I'm here_

_Don't you know that you're all my basic needs?_

Basic Needs - Jonathan Davis~

* * *

She heard it.

The rustling. 

At her window, near the bed. 

Normally, she would turn a blind eye to whatever she had thought she’d seen, or a deaf ear to whatever she had thought she’d heard. Shut the windows and draw the curtains and get ready for bed. Another night. Another tomorrow. More time to prepare.

But tonight was different. 

Tonight, she would say goodbye to her old life.

Tonight...she would join the Horde.

She couldn’t say quite how she knew; she’d been feeling it for some time, the low buzzing in her bones and the hum in her brain as the day approached nearer. She’d known it was coming. She just wasn’t sure when. 

 _We will be watching. We will know. And we will find you_ , she remembered him telling her.

How right the Beast had been. 

Moving towards the open window, Casey Cooke felt a wave of calm wash over her. A certainty. A _knowing_ that what was about to happen was fated, meant to be. Reaching her full potential. Becoming what she had always been meant to become. She could already feel the outer layers of the person she had once been beginning to peel, blossoming into an entirely new being. It was terrifying...it was wonderful.

She was mere feet from the window now, rain falling in furious pellets to the ground while thunder roared outside.

She swore she only _blinked_ and he was inside, standing before her, humongous frame blocking the window. If she had been the same person she’d been a year ago, when her disgusting uncle had met his righteous end, her heart would have been hammering with fear. But not now. Not here. Not when she was so close to becoming what she had always been but never known. Not when she could become one of _them_.

“You came.” She said, a bit breathlessly.

She wasn’t sure why she had said it, she had never doubted his appearance when she had been deemed ready. He’d said he would find her. And he did.

“You are ready.” He said, and his voice was every bit as powerful and commanding as she had remembered from that night.

Casey stepped forward, unsure of what to do or what to expect but not a bit afraid as she surrendered her old life and offered herself up to the altar of the Horde. The Beast stared down at her in the darkness. No smile, but a certain fondness in his eyes that she somehow knew was held for no one else but her. His eyes grazed her face, expression softening as you would expect one’s to after finally setting eyes on someone you had missed dearly for an immeasurable amount of time. He reached up and took a tendril of her dark hair between his fingers, gently pulling down until the strands slipped through them and nothing remained. 

Taking a step closer, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, ducking his chin beside her ear and nuzzling her hair. She felt him inhale, a satisfied, contented sound rising from his throat as he held her. It was gentle, and kind, dare she say loving, and automatically she knew she had made the right decision. Like a switch being turned, she felt wanted, and loved, and _safe_ , and all of the things she couldn’t remember feeling since her dad was still alive.

She balled her fists between her chest and his stomach, and let herself savor the first truly good thing to happen to her since her uncle died.

The moment lasted about a minute - one long, glorious strew of sixty seconds - before the Beast spoke into her ear and the spell was broken.

“Come.” 

She nodded even though she was sure he already knew of her full and complete compliance (how could it be possible to feel so connected to another living being without knowing them?), and needing no further encouragement, the Beast lifted her into his arms and leapt out the window. 

They moved so fast through her foster neighborhood and out of the city that she hardly had time to notice it. And she didn’t think about what her foster parents would think, or what her classmates at her school would say, or how long it would be before her face appeared on the news. All she could think about was what lay ahead for her, for the Horde, for _them_. Where they would be in a day, a month, a year. Though in all honesty, she didn’t particularly care.

Because she knew that no matter what happened, no matter what difficulties they faced or what obstacles were in store for them, she would be safe. Cared for. Loved.

Casey would never hurt again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s so sad about Jonathan Davis’ wife. Even though I’ve never met him or his family, my heart genuinely hurts. I hope he and his children are okay :(
> 
> On a slightly happier note, I hope you enjoyed this chapter/oneshot thing. I’ve got quite a few more of these things in the middle of being written, but this was the one I was able to get finished.
> 
> Do comment with your thoughts. I love gossiping with you guys about the SPLIT fandom! :)


	11. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis keeps Casey and is confused/hurt when nothing he does makes her happy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is in a different tense than the previous chapter(s), so hopefully it doesn’t put you guys off. Be sure and tell me what you think :)
> 
> Also who is super freakin’ excited for Glass?? Um, that newest trailer? With Casey hugging Kevin/The Beast??? What’s that all about, am I right? ;)

 

 

> _What_ _do_ _I_ _have_ _to_ _do?_ _Why_ _can't_ _this_ _hurt_ _be_ _through?_

_I'm_ _going_ _head_ _onto_ _something_ _I_ _know_ _I_ _will_ _fail_

 _Why_ _can't_ _this_ _kiss_ _be_ _true?_ _Why_ _won't_ _you_ _please_ _let_ _me_ _through?_

 _I_ _don't_ _understand_ _why_ _you_ _always_ _push_ _me_ _away_.

Kiss - KoRn~

* * *

He stands behind her door, trying to control his nervous breathing.

The bag of items he had gone out to purchase earlier in the day wrinkles in his fisted hands, his forehead nearly breaking into a sweat. He doesn’t understand, he’s done this a hundred times - why does the prospect of being so close to her make him so unlike himself? - yet this fact does nothing to calm his nerves. This could be the millionth time he’d done this, he would always wait outside her door for ten minutes with an inexplicable anxiety before going in to see her.

Sucking in a deep breath, Dennis ignores his now sweaty hands and turns to grab hold of the door handle and twist it open.

She’s sitting there on her bed as she always is, staring off into nothing until he steps inside her room. Her head turns to face him and her dark eyes force his heart to stop beating for just a moment, and as always, he’s shaken by her beauty.

 _Beautiful_ _Casey_ _Cooke_.

He gathers himself back up and walks with authority over to her bed, standing before her as a knight would his queen.

“Here,” he says, brow furrowed as he offers up his gift. “I brought you these.”

His breath hitches as her fingers brush against his to take the bag, and he watches with trepidation as she sifts through its contents.

A sketchbook, a pencil, a hairbrush.

He knows she’s not interested in meaningless things like magazines or low calorie foods; those things were for the impure, for useless wastes of space like the other two girls he had captured, long since gone. Those girls were weak, disgusting, shallow. Casey was intriguing, mysterious, layered. She kept to herself and didn’t broadcast her pain. She hid it, tucked it away under her countless sleeves and jackets, always concerned about the wellbeing of others and never complaining about her own situation.

She averts her eyes and thanks him, and he immediately feels as though he’s done wrong. Another gift given in vain. Another failure.

He still doesn’t understand how he could have ever stumbled onto someone like her, someone so like himself. She knew of his pain, of _their_ pain, and understood the depths of it, of what they had to go through for Kevin, alone. She does. She just has to realize it.

“...You don’t like them.”

It’s not a question, but a statement. She lightly scoffs at his assessment, mumbles something under her breath, and replies, “How can you say that given the situation?”

There’s a slight bite to her words, and Dennis clenches his jaw to try and keep the sting in his chest contained. He notices her bite her bottom lip, clearly wanting to say more but trying to stop herself. He secretly hopes she will, that things will end here and he can retreat to berate himself in solitude, but he is not so lucky.

“Can’t you see that this is wrong?!” She bursts, anger boiling on the tip of her tongue. “You can’t just keep someone against their will like some... _pet_ , and buy them gifts to keep them happy! It doesn’t work like that!”

Frustrated tears spring in her eyes, and Dennis purses his lips and momentarily bows his head to hide his own pain. So much work, all of this work and she still wasn’t happy. He had kept her clothed, fed, safe...he doesn’t understand why these things aren’t good enough. Why _he’s_ not good enough. 

A thick silence passes between them, and Casey breaks eye contact and looks to the floor, freeing him of her hold. Finally able to take a breath, Dennis kneels to her level and cups her face in his hands, twisting it to face him. He rests his forehead against hers, eyes screwed shut as thin tears pass over his cheeks. He weeps.

“You need to let me go.”

He shakes his head, not wanting to hear the words she is telling him. Her voice is calm, soothing, and he holds that much tighter to her because of it, clings that much more strongly. He can’t lose it. He can’t. He can’t live without her light, her understanding. She knows. She knows...

“You _need_ to let me go,” she says again, and the lack of emotion in her voice nearly breaks him.

So much...he’s done so much for her and it’s still not good enough. How could she say these things to him? He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand...

Her hands come up to rest on his head, her cold, dainty fingers curling around his skull in some twisted form of comfort, and he presses his face into hers, the salty liquid of their mixed tears seeping between their lips. How can she do this? Doesn’t she realize what this does to him?

... _No_ , he decides. _She_ _isn’t_ _going_ _anywhere_.

The tears cease. The brokenness mends. Heartache reverses, hardens. He gets up and pushes her backwards onto the bed, staring down at her with what he knows is an intimidating expression. She fears him in that moment, and it tears him apart, but it needs to be done.

“You are not going anywhere. You will stay here for as long as it takes...because you need to see. You need to see what you are and how special it is...and once you understand, then... _then_ we will let you go.”

He stares down at her deep brown eyes, allows himself to be lost in them for a moment. He strokes her face and runs his fingers through her hair, smells the lovely scent of the shampoo he’d bought her. Finally, he releases her, stands and makes quickly to leave the room. He cannot close the door fast enough, can’t hear the ‘click’ of the lock quickly enough. His eyes prick with tears, but he sheds none.

He doesn’t understand, he wants her to be happy. He just...wants her to be happy with him.

His gaze hardens and he clears his eyes of tears, glaring into the space beyond.

She _will_ be happy. She just has to learn.

And learn, she will.


	12. Last Legal Drug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five months into captivity, Casey tests a theory (continuation of Kiss).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

_So_ ,  _please_ , _when_ _you_ _die_ , _could_ _you_ _scream_

 _Mercy_ , _mercy_ _for_ _you_ _and_ _me?_

 _It's_ _true_ _what_ _they_ _say_ , _fuck_ _it,_ _boy_ ,

 _Love_ _might_ _be_ _the_ _last_ _legal_ _drug_

Last Legal Drug - KoRn~

* * *

 She waits for him to come.

It’s almost two p.m. now, and he always steps through that door at exactly the same time every day. Routine. Without fail. She can always count on his routine.

Casey sighs, resists the urge to tap her foot as she sits waiting on the edge of her bed. Five months. It’s been five months she’s spent in captivity, five months since she was ripped from her old life and forced to live day-to-day in a room with no windows, a structure without end. She’d escaped once, but there were so many halls and rooms and corridors, so much to take in and no sense of direction...she didn’t last long before _she_ had found her. Patricia. The matriarch. The leader of the Horde.

 _The_ _bitch_ , she thought bitterly.

Luckily, she didn’t have to deal with Patricia much. It was always one of the other two that came to see her, visit her, take care of her. Hedwig, the child whose naïveté and innocent sense of humor never ceased to amaze her. Or Dennis, the cold and hard man with a stern face and an obsession with cleanliness and avoiding germs. Only she was starting to think that maybe he wasn’t as cold and hard as he would like her to believe.

Hedwig may have been the one to entertain, but it was Dennis who fed her, clothed her, checked in on her to make sure she was alright. Always Dennis. Five months in a single room with nothing to do other than what Dennis gave her (he would bring her books to read or sketchbooks to draw in, occasionally he would have her help him clean different areas of the building), Casey took special care to notice things. At first they were small details that may help her escape - a crack in the floor, a vent in the ceiling, a loose nail in the doorframe - but when those things proved to be useless, she began noticing things about her captor (or should she say _captors_ at this point?).

Though it was clear from the get-go that the man who had captured her had severe mental health issues, she was finally beginning to believe that he truly did have multiple personalities living inside him. At first she had thought it to be a charade, a farce to scare her into submission and get her to act the way he wanted up until the point he either raped or killed her. But the more time that passed, the more she realized it wasn’t a lie; he was very serious. And therefore, very dangerous.

She soon learned, however, that she had nothing to fear from certain personalities. Hedwig was harmless and Dennis was intimidating but very professional in his care of her, and Patricia only made appearances when Dennis did something she deemed stupid (like letting her out of her room to help him clean) or just to remind her of her place and assert her dominance. There seemed to be a genuine difference in not only the behavior of the alters, but their memories as well; if one alter did something, the next alter to take form appeared to have no memory of their actions. It was risky, and could result in either a complete breakthrough and escape or a slow and painful death, but Casey was willing to bet her knowledge on the possibility of getting out of her prison for good.

Dennis seemed to be developing a soft spot for her. She had heard Patricia arguing with him over her one night. Hedwig had told her on occasion that Dennis liked her. Casey could only put the tiniest bit of merit behind this statement, of course, as she herself could only guess at the motives behind his recent behavior around her - could be, could not be - but it had already been five months; she wasn’t about to wait around until five _years_ had passed to finally try and make an escape. And as far as she knew, Hedwig wasn’t a liar. He was too naive for it, too oblivious to ever even occur to him to do. No, she would put weight into what she knew and hope it worked out in her favor.

Two p.m. hits and she is broken from her reverie - being a ‘good little captive’ as Patricia had put it, had earned her certain privileges, such as decorations for her room and a clock to tell time - and Casey doesn’t even have to wait patiently anymore because Dennis is already coming through the door.

A bag dangles from his right hand, and she finds this a bit odd; he hasn’t given her gifts for quite some time now, either because he figured he had already given her everything she could ever have or because he feared her rejection, she wasn’t sure, but she was beginning to think it was the latter.

He tries to hide it behind his back but it’s too late; she’s already seen. Realizing his futile attempt, Dennis lets his arm dangle at his side. The movement is jerky and awkward, and for some reason this only strengthens Casey’s resolve to go through with her plan. It’s an odd kind of reassurance, but at this point she’ll take what she can get.

She stands from her bed and Dennis half turns to shut the door. He pushes it with a bit too much force (nerves, perhaps?) and it slams shut with a sharp click that makes her jump. He motions an apology with his free hand and averts his eyes.

“I, um...I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” she says, flashing her palm as she nods. “It happens.”

A silence drifts between them, and she decides to be the first to speak.

“Is that for me?”

She looks pointedly at the bag, and Dennis looks down at his occupied hand, furrowing his brow as though wondering how it had gotten there.

“Oh. Um...y-yes.”

“Can I see?”

Her question is innocent enough, but her intentions are not; she sweeps closer before he can form any sort of response. He tenses immediately, closes in on himself in a way she never would have noticed if she hadn’t been looking for it, and a part of her tells her she has no idea what she’s risking, no clue what she is asking for with her brazen act. The other part, however, the stronger part, tells her this is the most straightforward means of escape. And maybe, just maybe, she’s a little curious as to the outcome.

She comes closer, and now his discomfort is visible; he backs himself into the corner much as a stray cat would do with a dog after it. But he’s not a cat, and she is not a dog. He stands his ground with her once he realizes she’s going to come as close as she pleases, and this doesn’t surprise her one bit; after all, from what she has gathered, Dennis has always been the strong one.

She stops with about a foot of space between them, purposely ignoring the burning of his stare as she gazes down at the bag and lifts her arm to take it. The pads of her fingers brush against his and she doesn’t miss the way he sucks in his breath at the cool contact, and she silently admits to herself that it does feel quite nice. She spreads open the bag and peeks down inside of it, eyes lighting with genuine surprise at its contents.

“I’ve been wanting to read this,” she says as she pulls out the latest copy from her favorite author. She briefly flips through the pages before smiling up at him. “Thank you.”

He stiffly nods to acknowledge her thanks, but doesn’t get to do much more than that; Casey leans up to place a swift kiss on the corner of his mouth, book in one hand as the other rests lightly on his shoulder.

She intends it to be casual, a simple nothing that will give her a relatively safe reaction to gauge whether her assumptions are correct or not, but it is anything but; his jaw clenches and his muscles tighten so quickly she pauses, stops herself from drawing fully away. His eyes are shut tight, and her own mouth goes dry as her mind begins to comprehend what exactly is happening.

 _Don’t_ , her mind thinks, but she already is.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she tilts forward again, and her lips gently brush against the corner of his mouth. She is soft and tentative, unsure, and when he does nothing to discourage her or push her away, she inches closer to his lips. He is as still as a statue, and this makes it easier for her to position her face with his. She angles her head and places a soft, dry kiss on his lips, adding the slightest bit of pressure before pulling away to look at him.

His eyes are still closed, she notices, and his face contorts into differing expressions of what she can only interpret as agonized pain. He finally makes noise then, something akin to a frustrated sigh or whimper, and Casey can’t help but feel slightly confused, disappointed, even. Had she been wrong? She leans forward to kiss him again, a final experiment, but Dennis’ rough and throaty voice stops her.

“ _Don’t_.”

She blinks, taking him in; his stance is so rigid she thinks it must hurt, and his breathing is heavy. His lips are pursed and his face twitches, and she hopes she hasn’t accidentally invoked the anger of the Beast. Dennis bows his head as he often does to try and clear his thoughts, and she knows she shouldn’t - _really_ shouldn’t - but his face is just that much closer to hers and the temptation is simply too strong. She closes the half inch of space between them, sliding her free hand further up his shoulder and stepping just the tiniest bit closer, the tip of her shoe bumping against his.

The fingers of her right hand brush past his collar and against the skin of his neck, and for one alarming moment she thinks she’s made a terrible mistake; his hands hesitate, then shoot to her face as he forcefully presses her against the opposite wall, and it takes her a second to realize he’s actually kissing her back and not punishing her for her actions. 

The book and bag are dropped somewhere along the way, forgotten, and Casey only just remembers how to use her arms as she circles them around Dennis. He kisses her with forceful enthusiasm, the tips of his fingers sliding up past her jaw and cheeks and threading into her hair. Her hands move as well, cool fingers coming into contact with the warm skin of his neck, and he groans, slackening his grip on her just enough to gain access to her throat. 

She gasps as his mouth makes contact with her jugular, and he gasps himself when her nails scrape against the nape of his neck. He hoists her up and wraps her legs around him, hands sliding against the denim of her jeans as he presses her further into the wall. He continues to kiss his way up her neck, biting down whenever he sees fit, and it’s all Casey can do to simply cling to him. 

As he kisses her, she can’t help but think of how inexplicably _right_ it feels, and how much it scares and confuses her. She had been ready for this encounter - hell, she had lived it her whole life - but she hadn’t been expecting to feel so...wanted? Cherished? Loved? She couldn’t explain it, and she may never be able to, but her past experiences...they had never felt like this. She didn’t feel fear, or self-loathing, or disgust. She felt...content. Happy, even. She had gone into this expecting to just go through it and get it over with. But now...now she wanted more. She wasn’t prepared for this.

A few more frenzied kisses are exchanged and Casey selfishly chooses to savor this moment, this foreign and contented feeling in her chest. Just as she decides to throw caution to the wind, however, the moment is ruined; Dennis tears himself away from her, dropping her as though burned, and she is left heaving with wobbly legs, bracing herself against the wall for support.

The spell is broken.

The connection is lost.

“No...no! No...No, how could you? I- I can’t...How _could_ you?!”

She jumps at his tone, startled and suddenly afraid to try and comfort him and calm him down. He paces, holding his head and shaking it.

“I’ve been good...I’ve been _so_ good...” he runs a shaky hand over his head, a truly agonized expression on his face. “Do you have _any_ idea...how much I...how much...the struggle...and just to-! Now look what you’ve done...”

She watches as he struggles with his words, fighting himself, and she is genuinely afraid.

“I can’t...I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t do this to you...”

He makes a hasty exit and slams the door shut behind him, the force of it causing a draft to pick up the plastic bag her book had come in and whirl it about the room. It gently crumples to the floor and Casey just stands there, wondering what went wrong and where. She doesn’t even care about her initial plans of escape at this point, she just wants to know why she somehow always manages to screw up even the smallest of joys for herself.

She lays on her bed for the next three hours and cries, angry at herself.

She knows nothing at all.

* * *

Her door creaks open later that night, and she carefully turns over in her bed.

 _Patricia_.

She glares down her nose at her, chin held high as though to keep from drowning in the filth that she considers her to be. Her words are soft but tight, and they hit her just as hard as any fist could.

“You have _no_ _idea_ what you’re gambling with, my dear.”

Her words are acid and they lock gazes for a hard, long moment. 

No further words are exchanged.

She slinks back into the shadows and locks the door.

Casey rolls over and relives Dennis’ lips on hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while. Like, a WHILE. I just couldn’t come up with a realistic way for it to happen. But now that moment’s here! 
> 
> I feel like Dennis would definitely want Casey, but would also feel guilty for wanting her as well. If I remember right, Casey has no idea about his ‘problems’ with young girls, and I imagine she would feel very confused if he wasn’t too responsive to her. Most people seem to gloss over the fact that Dennis has these problems that are so clearly illustrated in the movie, so I wanted to add a bit to that here.
> 
> Anyways enough of my rambling. Hope you guys like it! XD


	13. Somebody, Someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Kiss and Last Legal Drug. Dennis is being kept from Casey, forcing her to speak with Patricia in order to get him back.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPLIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s not a New Year’s post like I said but I’m not too far off. Only a few days. Enjoy!

_I_ _can’t stand to let you in_

_(I’m just watching you, and I don’t know what to do)_

_Feeling_ _like_ _a_ _fool_ _inside_

 _Feeling_ _all_ _the_ _love_ _you_ _hide_

Somebody, Someone - KoRn~

* * *

She glares at the pair of cynical eyes staring down at her as her meal is carefully set on the table.

Unsavory food sits on her plate, and deep red screams at her in the form of Patricia’s sweater. Her food has been...tolerable, since Patricia had taken charge. Edible, and always cleanly made. But Dennis had always made sure she had her favorites.

Patricia sits and smiles the way that she does, dignified and proper as she adjusts herself and smooths the nonexistent creases in her skirt. It’s unflattering on a body like Kevin’s, and she almost says this, but Casey doesn’t want to anger Patricia; after all, she had begged Hedwig to set up this meeting, and she is the key to having what she wants.

“Hello, Little Dove. I was told you wished to speak with me?”

She folds her hands and tilts her head, blinks in the most primpish of manners, and it’s the most infuriating thing Casey has ever seen. She purses her lips and takes a breath before responding.

“Yes. Hedwig told me you’ve been keeping Dennis from the Light recently?”

If she would be civil, then so would she.

A slyness passes over Patricia’s eyes. “‘Keeping’ him? No, dear. I’ve merely been protecting him.”

She furrows her brows, genuinely confused. “Protecting him? From what?”

A smile that is almost friendly adorns her face. “Oh, come now. Must I really say it? From _you_ , my dear.”

A tense pause passes between them, an unspoken challenge in the older woman’s eyes as Casey processes what she’s said.

“I...from _me?_ ”

She shifts her focus to the table, staring into nothing as she tries to make sense of everything.

Ever since their... _encounter_ , a few weeks back, Casey’s time with Dennis had been extremely limited. At first she thought it was normal, as things were terribly awkward for both of them and neither were really willing to talk about it. But then she started seeing less and less of him, and then her food started coming in forms she didn’t like, made in ways she didn’t particularly care for, and not long after, Patricia had made her presence known as her caretaker from that point forward. Hedwig had been coming to see her more often, too, almost every night, and he had told her that Dennis was ‘in trouble’ and wasn’t allowed to come into the Light anymore. So Casey had asked him to talk with Patricia and ask to speak with her. She had assumed from the start that Patricia was purposely keeping Dennis from her. Now it seemed the tables had turned.

Patricia tilts her head as though subtly surprised at her reaction, and the movement causes her to come back to the present.

“Dennis has always had... _trouble_ , when it comes to young girls such as yourself. All pretty women pose a threat to him, of course, but he’s always been particularly enamored by the youthful ones. I never quite understood it, myself.”

They make eye contact, and, seeing that she has her interest, Patricia decides to continue. “The last one was a Catholic schoolgirl of sixteen. He kept her for a few months, but eventually grew tired of her and she had to be disposed of.” She pauses, as though contemplating whether or not to elaborate on what exactly the ‘disposing’ had consisted of, and seems to deem it an unnecessary detail. “You’re the longest obsession he’s had yet. I’m surprised. He usually prefers the more exotic end of the spectrum.”

Her words are like a punch to the gut, but Casey somehow knows Patricia is only telling her this to help her fully understand Dennis for who he really is. She remembers their kidnapping, that first day in that room with Marcia and Claire, had suspected it then. But she didn’t know just how much of a problem it was, how deep it really ran. She knows she should be fearful, terrified, even, but she thinks back to that moment all those weeks ago, how safe and right it felt, and can’t bring herself to be so. 

Countless differing thoughts and emotions war in her heart like violent waves crashing against each other, but the one that prevails above all others is hurt. He was afraid of her.He hadn’t gone away because Patricia had forced him to, he had gone away because he had _asked_ her to. He _wanted_ to be away from her. _She_ had caused him to want to be away from her. She had tried her luck at an attempt of escape, gotten more than she had bargained for and ruined everything. When did she start caring about him so much?

Tears spring in her eyes, and she immediately starts working on reigning them in. “I...does he hate me?”

Patricia seems surprised at her question, and a sudden and inexplicable softness passes over her eyes; Casey thinks it must be the tears blurring her vision.

“No, dear. Quite the opposite. He’s trying to protect you. He’s afraid he’ll hurt you because of his lack of self control.”

Quiet overtakes them, not so much as a creak or sigh as they sit across from each other in the small kitchen, Casey silently gaining control over her tears. The seconds pass, turning to minutes as a sullen mood hangs in the air. Casey finally breaks the silence with a quiet, shaky breath, but it’s Patricia who breaks the silence of communication.

“I can let you speak with him if you wish, but know what you’re asking for if you do.”

Casey’s head whips up, shocked and slightly awed at the offer being presented to her. She thinks it over, deciding on whether or not it’s really worth it to risk being hurt further than she already has by the whole ordeal, but comes to the conclusion that the situation really can’t get much worse; she’s not afraid of anything after her uncle. 

She chooses to nod instead of a verbal reply, and Patricia nods back her compliance. As she watches Kevin’s head bow and slightly twitch as their places are being switched, she can’t help but be left with a new understanding and a bit of a soft spot for the Horde matriarch; as cold as she can be, she is still and always will be a mother figure at her core. 

The twitching stops and Kevin slowly raises his head, and she can see Dennis behind his eyes. He blinks once, twice slowly, as though coming to grips with where he is and what’s going on, and upon realization, he shoves back against the table with a deafening screech and jerks away from her, placing as much distance between them as he can.

His back hits the kitchen counter and he blindly scrambles for his glasses, miraculously finding them next to the bread - Casey finds this strange, and wonders if he leaves them there normally or if Patricia had known ahead of time that this would happen and purposely left them there for him to find - and hastily puts them on and stares at her.

“What...what are you _doing?!_ I told you to keep me away!”

It takes her a minute to realize he’s not speaking to her, but Patricia. She wonders about the conditions of their agreement, how exactly he had approached her on the subject and how their conversation had gone. But it doesn’t matter now, not when after four long weeks he’s finally standing right in front of her. 

Casey approaches him, her steps slow and timid. At first, Dennis doesn’t notice her - he’s too caught up in verbally berating Patricia - but once she’s within touching distance he immediately stills his mouth and tenses, and she can see his muscles straining beneath Patricia’s form-fitting sweater. She analyzes his face, her gaze sweeping over his wrinkled forehead and furrowed brow, his closed eyes and pursed mouth. Without thinking, she lifts a hand and brushes her fingertips against the edge of his trembling chin, the coldness in them causing his body to jerk and his breath to hitch.

“Dennis.”

She says his name quietly, her tone soothing as she tries to coax his eyes open; she just wants him to look at her. That’s all she wants. Not to yell at or belittle him for something he can’t control. She knows what she’s done is selfish, but at the moment, with him finally being so close again, she can’t bring herself to care.

Dennis’s face twists into an agonized expression, but he doesn’t respond or open his eyes. Casey looks at him, saddened for him and his situation, but she knows he doesn’t want sympathy. She stares at his contorting face, considers backing off - he looks as though he’s about to cry now - but decides that the damage has already been done. The tips of her freezing fingers slide further up his face, and her thumb comes to rest beneath his chin. He shudders, his skin contracting in response to thecold contact, and he audibly whimpers; still, he doesn’t open his eyes.

“Dennis,” she says again, leaning closer. 

Another whimper, but noticeably more restrained as he shakes his head ‘no’. Her hand glides up the left side of his face as she leans even closer, fingers slipping past his ear as her thumb brushes the corner of his mouth. She moves at a snail’s pace, taking note of his stance; his body is tense as a coiled spring, and his arms are braced against the counter as he tries in vain to lean as far away from her as possible. The effort is futile - the counter won’t budge and the cupboards keep him from leaning very far back at all - and though she denies it, somewhere within her, deep down, this satisfies her - for years, she’d been a victim; now it is the predator who fears her.

Their foreheads touch and she brings her other hand up to the opposite side of his face, closing her eyes. Dennis reacts immediately; he lifts his head as though above water, gasps as if to keep from drowning, and her head falls against the side of his neck, her own lips parting as her lashes brush against his throat. His muscles become lax and he finally melts into her, and she feels him swallow long and hard against the bridge of her nose, feels the sudden intake of breath against her chest.

Rough, warm fingers delve past her face and into her hair as he kisses her, and she backs up a few steps as he pushes off from the counter. His lips are soft and timid, but also desperate; she can tell he’s trying anxiously to control himself. She kisses him back, all too happy to comply, but Dennis is eventually able to force himself to pull away. He screws his eyes shut and bows his head, his fingers still tangled in Casey’s hair. Tears stream down his face and he looks truly defeated, and her heart aches with guilt. She gently grips his right wrist with both hands, smoothing a thumb over the top of his hand to silently console him.

”I’m sorry...” he whimpers. “I’m _so_ sorry...”

She shushes him, cradling his head and pulling him close. “Don’t be. You did nothing wrong.”

”How can you say that?” He asks, finally looking her in the eye. “How can you _say_ that when I almost-! ...W- when I-”

“When you what?” She asks softly. “When you kissed me? Dennis, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I- I promised...I promised that I’d be good. That I wouldn’t _hurt_ you, I can’t...”

He tries to look away from her again, but she holds his face and forces it back in her direction.

” _Dennis_ ; I’m not hurt.”

He doesn’t respond, merely gives her an agonized look that tells her he’s not convinced. Casey thinks; how can she make him see? How can she make him understand that he’s not nearly as terrible as he thinks? She exhales through her nose, stroking the sides of his face.

“Do you really think Patricia would have given you the Light if she thought you were going to hurt me?”

His eyes widen, and she takes a mental sigh of relief as he seems to seriously consider this. Casey knows how much respect Dennis holds for Patricia, how she had been there for him when all the others had forsaken him because of his... _issues_. He believed in that woman more than the Beast Himself. And if this moment was any consolation, she knew Dennis better than he knew himself, too, otherwise the Light would not have been given. She may not have particularly cared for her, but Patricia would never do anything to bring harm to the first of the Pure.

“You’re not a monster, Dennis.” She says softly. “Everyone has problems.”

She grips his shoulders and Dennis stares at her, a pleading look in his eyes. “Let me help you.”

He gazes longingly at her, something akin to hope flickering in his eyes, and she lets herself hope too. She leans forward, rests her forehead against his and closes her eyes when he accepts the contact. She sighs and waits for him to decide, being sure not to press and giving him plenty of time. She hopes with everything she has that he’ll let her in, that he’ll allow her to help him work through his problems and trust her. He mirrors her pose and raises his arms to grip her shoulders - whether for support or merely because he wants to touch her, she’s not sure - and takes a shaky breath before replying.

”...No. Not like this. I’m sorry.”

The grip on her shoulders twitches, and by the time she lifts her head to plead with him, it isn’t the same pair of eyes she’s looking into.

The hands on her shoulders release their grip, smoothing the wrinkles as they run down her arms and carefully extricate themselves from her person.

“I’m sorry, Little Dove. I tried.”

Patricia sounds truly sorry for the turn of events, but Casey hardly processes it as she can’t bring herself to do anything but cry. She squats to the ground and hugs herself, tears streaming down her face and dripping to the floor. Patricia’s shoes blur into the tiles, and Casey feels a gentle hand on her shoulder blade.

“Shhhhh, it’s alright. It’ll be alright. Go to your room. I’ll speak with him.”

She feebly gets up and does as she is told, ecstatic at the notion of being alone with a soft bed to cry on. Patricia locks the door, removing Dennis’s glasses and staring holes into the wood for a long moment, thinking. She had hoped Dennis would listen to Casey, if no one else. But that didn’t seem to be the case. She had been watching him, keeping a close eye on his behavior and actions toward the Cooke girl. She knew he held affections for her, but only now did she know how deep.

 _Interesting_ , _indeed_.

She folds the glasses in her hands and returns them to their place on the counter. Dennis’s glasses were always kept safely in their case in the bathroom, but Orwell’s worked just as well for his vision. Their eye conditions were so similar, she would have preferred they just shared a pair, but she understood each alter’s need for owning tangible things that solidified their identities. She doesn’t know what she would do were she forced to share a wardrobe with Jade.

The Horde matriarch sighs forlornly to herself before retreating to Hedwig’s room and preparing to speak with Dennis. It’s going to take considerably more energy than she had anticipated in order to get through to him, and she isn’t particularly looking forward to it, but it must be done.

She closes the door with a soft click and prepares to give Hedwig the Light.

 _“Hedwig_ , _I_ _need_ _you_ _to_ _take_ _control_ _of_ _the_ _Light_ _for_ _a_ _bit_. _Dennis_ _and_ _I_ _need_ _to_ _have_ _a_ _little_ _chat_.”

The nine-year-old shifts in his chair, uncomfortable. “ _He’s_ _not_... _in_ _more_ _trouble_ , _is_ _he? Etcetera?”_

She smiles at his naïveté. “ _Don’t_ _you_ _worry_ _about_ _that_. _I_ _just_ _need_ _you_ _to_ _make_ _sure_ _none_ _of_ _the_ _others_ _interfere_. _And_ _do_ not, _under_ any _circumstances_ , _visit_ _Casey_ _while_ _I_ _am_ _gone_ , _do_ _you_ _hear?_ _She_ _needn’t_ _be_ _bothered_ _by_ _your_ _childish_ _antics_.”

Her face twitches as she _feels_ his eye-roll.

 _“Fine_ , _whatever_.”

She lets his attitude slide as he promises his consent, and Patricia bows her head in wait for him to leave his chair and take the Light.

_What a silly little thing love is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not turn out like I wanted it to. Like, at all. I just...I dunno. I had planned to end it as a 3-shot with this but pffffffft! Apparently we’re getting a part 4! 
> 
> I don’t particularly like the direction this ended up going in, and I even rewrote it several times toward the middle there. Like WHAT THE HECK, BRAIN?! Whatever though, at this point I just hope you guys like it. Be sure and tell me what you think, what you think I can improve on...”Etcetera”! XD (I’m sorry I just can’t not make that pun)


End file.
